Memento Mori Miles
by Steph-Schell
Summary: They both missed him so badly. Maybe if they could somehow become him, it would bring him back. (Technically gen but pairings can be inferred.)


The coat was the first thing to appear. No one made too much fuss over it. Winter was beginning to set in and the nights were developing quite a bite to them. Charlie was thin; she could use the extra padding. There was nothing wrong with wanting to keep warm as the days got progressively colder.

The next was the shirts. Actually it was undershirts but no one actually saw those. Except on occasions when the shirts slipped the same way as the jacket. Usually though, the jacket slipped one way and the shirt another so all you knew was that she was in clothes that were several sizes too big. But now people started to talk a little. They thought it was weird how she was suddenly dressing in clothes that didn't fit her. Most of them didn't approach her directly but Charlie wasn't deaf. She could hear the whispers as she passed.

Finally it was the jeans. She held off longest on these because they were so big they rarely stayed in place. They were hard to run in and didn't allow her to move as stealthily as she once did. But Charlie stubbornly held onto them anyway. Her mother tried to talk to her about all of this but Charlie shrugged her off. Charlie was an adult now. She could dress anyway she wanted.

It wasn't until she sheared off her hair that people began to really worry. Charlie tried to placate them by saying the long hair got in her way. It was true; her longer hair had tripped her up more than once. But that wasn't why she cut it. Charlie wanted to look different. Since she hadn't looked in a mirror in years, she wasn't entire sure how well it was working. Nora commented that Charlie and Danny could almost pass for twins now. Charlie thought it was progress even if it wasn't quite what she was going for.

Bass didn't learn about the incident until two months after it happened. He shattered five glasses and an expensive decanter of whiskey by throwing them against the wall. For once Bass didn't' care about saving face. His entire world had been shattered with just one simple message. Everything inside him hurt now and he wasn't sure how to stop the pain. Not even drinking could end this.

He found the shirt first. It was big because it hadn't actually belonged to either of them. Bass thought it had been Ben's or maybe their dad's. Either way, Bass started leaving off the usual presidential uniform and wearing the too large blue shirt. Let people talk if that's what they wanted. He was president, no one could question him.

After much digging, he found the dog tags. Bass wasn't quite sure why they were left behind but for once, he was grateful. He had so little to hold on to from the past. What little he could find he would hold on to tightly. Bass started wearing them all the time. At first it was under his shirt but then he decided to leave them out one day. If anyone noticed, they said nothing. Bass didn't really expect them too.

Bass didn't even remember finding the flask. But it was even better than some of the other stuff. The flask also had the Marine insignia on it. The thing that they had both fought for once upon a time. It soon became the only thing he would drink out of and it was usually filled with whiskey. Bass sometimes ran his thumb over the insignia but he was very careful not to do it too often. He didn't want to wear it away.

They had both expected to meet up again. But they hadn't quite expected it to go the way it did.

Bass knew she was there but he couldn't quite drag himself up from his chair. "Hello, Charlotte," he greeted. He glanced over to the window where she stood. She was dressed in a coat, shirt and jeans all several sizes too big. If he hadn't known it was her by her soft footsteps, he would have called her Danny.

"Monroe," she nodded.

Bass pushed himself out of his chair. "I recall you being more filled out when we last met," he said as he walked with jerky movements to the sideboard.

"Binding."

"I see." And he did. He was doing the same thing. It was why his curls had been razed off and his formerly neat facial hair had been allowed to devolve into stubble. It was the exact same idea Charlie had. They thought if they piled on enough of his clothes, used enough of his things, looked enough like him or used enough of his mannerisms; then they could be him. Then he wouldn't be dead. It was a foolish dream of course but they held on to it anyway.

"Did you…" Charlie shook her head as he glanced at her. "I mean…the two of you…" Bass gave her an expectant look. "The people in the rebel camps talk," she finally settled on.

Bass chuckled. "Funny. My soldiers say the same thing about the two of you. Talk all the time about how you were his 'right hand'. Strange what people say, isn't it?"

"Strange," Charlie nodded.

Bass tilted his head. "Is this how it's going to go, Charlotte? You're going to kill me with my best friend's sword?" Bass gestured to the pair of swords strapped to Charlie's side.

Charlie fingered the cool metal of the brass knuckles that had been set into the handle of the sword at her hip. She looked down it for a long moment. "No," she decided. "That's not how it's going to go."

Bass looked up at the clatter of metal. The belt and two swords were lying at his feet now. "Charlotte?" he asked, not daring to reach for the weapons just yet.

Charlie ran her palms over the fraying rope that was holding her jeans up. "They're yours now," she explained. "He said…"

Bass gave her a smile that wasn't really a smile at all. It was all of their cracked and broken feelings rolled into one expression. "No he didn't."

"No he didn't."

"Do you know who killed him?"

Charlie shook her head, swallowing against the tears. She wouldn't be the first to cry. "If one of us knew who did it, they wouldn't' still be breathing."

"True," Bass admitted.

"He died alone." It had taken Charlie a long time to admit that. She still hadn't come to grips with it. For the longest time she wanted to pretend that someone had stayed with him until he died but it wasn't true. "By…by the time we got there, he was already cold."

Bass paused from setting the swords on his desk. "I'm sorry." He studied the broken, aching girl standing by his window. "I loved him too, Charlotte."

"I know."

Both of their heads snapped to the door as footsteps were heard. "I may be sympathetic this night but my guards won't share that mindset," Bass said. "Go back the way you came." Charlie didn't move. "Now, Charlotte. I'll make sure they don't follow you."

Charlei was gone from the window by the time the guards burst through the door. "Sir?" Jeremy asked. "We heard voices."

Bass glanced at them. "It was nothing. Just the wind. I forgot to close the widow."

"Sir?" one of guards pushed.

"I said it was nothing," Bass insisted. "You're dismissed. Go back to your posts."

The guards hesitated. "Dismissed," Jeremy nodded. He was about to leave with them when he looked back to Bass who had thrown himself into his desk chair. Jeremy's eyes caught on the swords. "Bass?"

Bass didn't answer, just ran shaky hands over the metal of the swords.

Charlie ran down the street and ducked into an alley before disappearing into the underground tunnel system. Before long she was back out in the wilderness surround Philly. Nora was the first to greet her. "What happened?"

"Our information was wrong. He was guarded." Charlie shrugged. "I couldn't' get close enough."

"Couldn't?" Rachel pressed.

"That's what I said, isn't it? Look we'll get another chance."

Danny followed his sister as she pushed her way through the crowd. He had noticed the lack of swords strapped to her waist. "Charlie?" he prompted as she sat down. Charlie didn't aswer. Danny held her tight as she sobbed into his shoulder.

Back in Philly, Bass broke down at his desk while Jeremy squeezed his shoulder.


End file.
